


Not another haunted castle!

by PanAcePanic



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a bit of angst, and jaskier being jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanAcePanic/pseuds/PanAcePanic
Summary: Travelling north for weeks on end, Jaskier is on his last contract with Geralt before wintering begins and the two part ways.  The past twelve contracts have all been some form of haunting and, honestly, Jaskier was just tired of hauntings right now.  Give him drowners, vampires, dragons, anything but another haunting.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72
Collections: Geraskier





	Not another haunted castle!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the writing prompts posted by my friend Adorkably on Tumblr (blog of the same name, go check her out she's great!), this is the prompt simply put: You are not dragging me into another haunted castle!
> 
> Enjoy!

Prompt: You are NOT dragging me into another haunted castle!  
Pairing: Geraskier

Another rainy night, another pair of muddy, waterlogged shoes for Jaskier. Clad in a water-resistant cloak, he sloshed his way through mud next to Roach as Geralt guided her down a path barely visible to even the Witchers keen senses. Contract after contract as they headed north, and every single one seemed to be a fucking haunting. Don’t get him wrong, Jaskier loves a good haunting as they make some of the best tragic love tales (with some… clever additions from yours truly). That being said, there were only so many ghouls, nightwraiths, and Midday Brides that a bard can take before he runs out of viable material. Half of them ended with Geralt just casting them away instead of killing them, meaning coin was lower than usual but that was alright, they had survived on less for longer. Still, if he saw one more haunted house, he was going to fucking scream.

  
Guided in the darkness almost solely by the sound of Roach’s hooves on the various stones and wet dirt, Jaskier continued to trudge behind Geralt, slowly getting damper with each step. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the mountain as they trudged up it, and Jaskier sighed. This would be the last contract with Geralt before winter set in, a time when Jaskier would hold himself up in Oxenfort or Novigrad, whichever offered better atmosphere at the time of settling, and Geralt would disappear to wherever it was witchers went for the winter. _Bloody hibernating wolves,_ Jaskier grumbled in the back of his head.  
Brushing damp strands of hair from his face as he trudged along, his eyes fell on the case hanging from Roach’s saddle bags and he smiled. Dark oak wrapped in thick, durable leather, Jaskier’s beloved lute sat in a weatherproof case which Geralt had gifted him nearly a year ago, right before they had parted for the winter again. Things with Geralt had been… tense that year, Jaskier supposed. It was no secret that Jaskier had fallen in love with Geralt the moment he spared the Sylvan _(Can you blame him, though? Buff, wields swords, AND has a decent moral compass partnered with hidden compassion and a tragic backstory? Look, a bard can only resist so much, okay)_ but Geralt had always seemed to simply… tolerate Jaskier’s presence. It wasn’t until after the fight on the mountain, something which made Jaskier’s stomach turn every time he thought about it, that Geralt actually admitted that they were, at the very least, friends.

_Flashback_

Anger boiling in his stomach, tears barely held in his eyes, Jaskier trudged down the mountain sans Geralt, a song’s beginnings written in his notebook but no fire in his heart to write it. That fire had been snuffed the moment Geralt demanded his removal from his life. With a bitter laugh, Jaskier continued down the path, shaking his head. Leave it to the humble bard to fall in love with a Witcher who would never return his feelings in the slightest. Barely tolerating Jaskier’s presence simply for the coin it brought, Geralt had finally had enough of his meddling and demanded his immediate removal. Well, who was Jaskier to deny the wishes of the one he loved? And so Jaskier walked, his pack slung over his back, his lute strapped beneath his traveling cloak, and his notebook in his pocket.   
Two weeks later found Jaskier playing songs in a tavern on the road, slowly making his way back to Oxenfurt where he was planning to take back up his teaching position and move on with his life, a vain hope to forget the amber eyes that burned behind his eyelids. As Her Sweet Kiss came to a close and Jaskier happily accepted the coins presented as patrons wiped tears from their eyes, the doors burst open to reveal a man. Bedraggled and dirty, this man ran in and locked eyes on Jaskier.

  
“You, bard, come quick. It’s your Witcher you were singing about!” Muscle memory had Jaskier running out the door, barley saving time to shove his coin purse in his pocket and grip his lute tight. During their years of travel, Jaskier had rushed to Geralt’s aid a number of times; when he’s taken too many potions fighting a beast, when he’s underestimated the contract or been fed the wrong information on it, and so forth. He’s learned how to treat most wounds and poisonings simply due to necessity bred by traveling with a Witcher.

  
He didn’t have far to go before he came to where Geralt rest. On the outskirts of town, with Roach laying down and acting as a support, Geralt sat still on the ground. His iron sword lay broken beside him, his silver one not visible anywhere in Jaskier’s immediate sight, and Jaskier’s heart sank.

  
“Geralt,” he muttered, stepping forward. Roach perked up at the sight of a person but eyed the man who had led Jaskier here, clearly not trusting him. “It’s alright, Roach, it’s just me, Jaskier” Jaskier raised his hands as he walked forward, holding one out to let Roach scent him if needed but it wasn’t. Roach knew exactly who Jaskier was just by the sound of his voice and she relaxed, nosing Geralt gently in concern instead. “I know, girl. Let me look at him.”

  
He was pale, much more than usual, and his skin seemed to be clinging to bone in places. He was bleeding from various cuts and wounds, claw marks littering exposed skin and spines broken off in his armor and most likely in his skin as well. 

  
“D’ya have any idea what did this t’him?” The man asked nervously as he stood away from Roach, unwilling to approach the clearly distressed horse.  
“Alghouls, judging by the spines in his arms. Bring a cart this way, if you can. I need to get him back to the inn and treat him there. By the looks of the sky we’re in for a rainy night” Jaskier said firmly, reaching into Geralt’s bag and pulling out a potion he had used all too many times in similar occasions. Red and swirling with pigment, the basic Swallow potion offered quick healing for minor wounds and could be used to stabilize heavier injuries in order to provide treatment in a more ideal location. The man left with a nod and Jaskier sighed, setting to work cataloging the various injuries and places that would need treatment once they were back. Conditions like this, he was reluctant to treat them outside if other accommodations were available.

  
An hour later, Jaskier was stroking a fire in the room offered by the innkeeper, a pot of water resting above it and slowly simmering while a storm brewed outside. Geralt lay in the bed behind him, bandaged up and dressed only in his smallclothes while Jaskier mended his torn ones. Geralt hadn’t woken in the time that Jaskier treated him but that wasn’t too surprising. Between Jaskier’s gentle touch and the violently purple rings under Geralt’s eyes, he would probably be out for a while still before waking.  
Standing with a sigh, Jaskier grabbed a rag and dipped it in the hot water before walking back to the man in the bed, skin still sallow beneath the grime and hair dull with grease. He hadn’t been taking care of himself at all, it would seem. “Oh Geralt, whatever am I to do with you?” Jaskier asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and slowly beginning to wipe away the grime from his skin. This was something he had done before, cleaned the man while he slept his pain away, but tonight felt different. Jaskier could still feel the tension of the fractured friendship, his heart aching from the shouts echoing in his head that had haunted him for the past fortnight, and he couldn’t help but feel wrong doing this, like he was invading Geralt’s privacy without his consent.

  
“I am sorry, you know,” Jaskier whispered, dipping the rag into the water that he had brought over with him and continuing. “I never wanted to anger you or hurt you in any way. I-” Jaskier paused and shook his head, seeing no change in Geralt’s frame, “I love you, always have. Ever since you spared that Sylvan on the first day we met. You’re a good man, Geralt, whether you like it or not. Rough, sure, and hidden behind layer after layer of protections, but you’re good. Good with kids, good with those in need, you’re constantly breaking those oaths you told me about simply because it’s what you believe is right. ‘A witcher must remain neutral to all parties as coin is our only master’, well that worked out really well. Between the various political scandals and basic inability to deny a crying child, remaining neutral is about the only thing you can’t do.” Jaskier laughed softly and began working the cloth over his hair, wiping the worst of the grease away.

  
“You’re a good man, that’s why I chose to follow you. Behind those hard, yellow eyes and under those two swords of yours, you just wanted to be good, to be accepted. And I wanted to help people see that. That’s why I sing about Witchers, you know? Because people may hate you and despise your presence but they also rely on you to survive. You have saved the lives of countless people and I have to try and make them respect that, make them respect you. You deserve the world and so much more, so much more than I could ever give you, and I hope that one day you get it. Be it with Yennefer or on the Path, you deserve everything good in life and I will do my best to make that happen, however best I can. When I get back to Oxenfurt, I’m planning on teaching a few courses on Witchers, teaching the students about what Witchers are really like and how they operate. Maybe if the world can understand you on an academic level, they can come to accept you all more. Or maybe-”

  
“Jaskier,” Geralt grunted and Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise. “Shut. Up.”

  
“Geralt, oh thank the gods!” Jaskier sat up straight and looked at the man, seeing the yellow eyes cracked open with a familiar glare towards him. “How are you feeling?”

  
“Like I was given the wrong information and walked into an Alghoul den when I was told drowners.” Jaskier sighed and nodded, standing up and grabbing a bowl from the table.

  
“Here, have some of this. It’s not the best soup in the continent but it’s fairly decent. Good broth and the chicken is actually recognizable.” Jaskier huffed a laugh and sat back down on the bed, holding a spoon to Geralt’s mouth. After drinking down the spoonful reluctantly, Geralt glared at him again.  
“I can feed myself.”

  
“I’m well aware of that, Geralt. However, those spines were rather deep in your arms and I suspect that your arms may still be a touch numb. Just- let me help.” Jaskier pleaded with his eyes, holding out another spoonful for him. With a huff, Geralt accepted and the next few moments were silent as Jaskier fed him the broth slowly. When the bowl was empty and the fire dying slightly, Jaskier stood and placed the bowl back, stroking the fire again and adding some more wood to it.

  
“I care for you,” Jaskier froze as the graveled voice spoke. Turning back to him, Jaskier looked at Geralt in confusion.  
“You… care for me?”

  
“You,” Geralt heaved himself up into a sitting position on shaking arms and leaned against the headboard. “You’re probably my best friend, Jask. Beyond my brothers and my father, there’s no one who knows me better.” Jaskier sat on the side of the bed again, taking Geralt’s hand in his.

  
“How much did you hear?” Geralt looked at Jaskier and he could almost see a hint of sheepishness in Geralt’s eyes.

  
“I woke before you came over to me. I just didn’t want to both-” Geralt cut himself off as Jaskier flung his arms around him, holding tight to Geralt and hugging the man for all he could.

  
“You stupid, stupid Witcher. You’re my best friend and I love you. Always have, always will, however you need me to.” Jaskier muttered into Geralt’s neck and Geralt laughed slightly, arms slowly moving to hold him as well.

  
_End Flashback_

  
Geralt had gone on to present Jaskier with the case during their last contract together before the wintering began that year and Jaskier knew exactly what it was. One the one hand, it was an attempt to apologize for the guilt still gnawing at the Witcher’s gut for what he had said. On the other hand, it symbolized something. A lute case, weatherproof and durable enough to throw down a mountain without damaging the delicate tuning of the instrument, represented Geralt’s promise to Jaskier. A promise to work with him and support him in his endeavors. It represented their relationship, how Jaskier adapted his needs to mesh with Geralt’s and vice versa. Hardened oak, durable leather, intricate detailing, delicate instrument. A perfect representation of the two together. One relying on the other for protection and one empty without the other.

  
Jaskier was pulled out of his thoughts as they neared the top of the mountain, having trudged for hours up the flooded path, as a flash of lightning beyond the mountain illuminated a looming castle just ahead and Jaskier’s stomach sank.

  
“Oh no. Geralt, Geralt stop.” Jaskier stopped and stood still, eyes locked on the gate that he couldn’t see anymore but knew it was there.

  
“What?” Geralt huffed, clearly annoyed at their current situation.

  
“You are not, under any circumstances, dragging me into ANOTHER HAUNTED CASTLE!” Jaskier shouted, pointing at the structure hidden in darkness. “We have been in no less than 12 haunted locations on our way north, headed Gods only know where since you never bloody told me where you spend your winters, and frankly I refuse to spend another wet night dealing with some pissed off wraith or another. In fact, I-” Jaskier yelped as Geralt reached down and dragged him onto Roach, situating him in front of Geralt and quickly trapping him with his arms as they started moving again.

  
“Let me go, you absolute brute! Honestly, this is no way to treat a friend, Geralt, and, if I have to be honest-”

  
“It’s not a contract, calm down.” Geralt intoned calmly, pressing Jaskier further into his chest and wrapping his own cloak around the bard as well.

  
“It’s not?”

  
“No. Is it haunted? Yes, but it’s not a contract.”

  
“T-then why…?

  
Before Geralt could respond, fires lit along the pathway and the drawbridge lowered to reveal three figures ahead of them. All tall, broad, and with two swords strapped to each of them, Jaskier finally figured out where they were as a voice called out.

  
“Finally made it! Welcome home, Geralt.”

  
Geralt leaned down to whisper in Jaskier’s ear as Roach walked them across the bridge, “I figured it was time you met my family, my heart.”


End file.
